


i'm gonna die to own this room

by KHart



Series: storm clouds may gather, and stars may collide (but I love you, until the end of time) [4]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/F, also this has foreshadowing, but when are the gays NOT, just in case cussing is a trigger for anyone, like so dramatic, so have some angst with a happy ending for your soul, the charlynch breakup is still so tragic, there's some bad language too bc people say mean things when they're mad, this is also super dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-29 07:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHart/pseuds/KHart
Summary: Becky is just about sick of Charlotte being so reckless in the ring.(And she's definitely tired of it.)So, when Charlotte obtains another injury after a grueling pay-per-view match, she decides a confrontation has to be made.Unfortunately, Charlotte can be as oblivious as she is stubborn.---Or: The night Becky and Charlotte finally realized their feelings weren't so one-sided after all.





	i'm gonna die to own this room

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Cussing
> 
> \---
> 
> This is set in the past of same universe that the rest of the works of this series are in. 
> 
> \---
> 
> the title is a lyric from the song "Play" by Marmozets, which was used for one of the NXT takeover women's matches a while ago.
> 
> \---
> 
> My Tumblr is flairfatale if y'all wanna come over and talk about how horrible the Charlynch breakup has been but also how great this feud is about to be.

_I don't dance 'cause I want to_

_I dance 'cause I need to_

**_I'm gonna die to own this room_ **

_Yeah, I need this more than you_

\----

Charlotte unbuckled her seatbelt as the car slowed near the curb, and, once it was fully at a stop, she turned some in her seat.

"Thanks for the ride, Sash. I appreciate it."

The other woman shifted the gear into park and looked over at her. 

"It's no problem, Queenie," she said. "You just make sure you ice those ribs, okay? You've got a rematch coming your way tomorrow. And hopefully we can get through the match without anyone getting hurt this time."

Charlotte nodded with a tired but good-natured smile, sliding out of the vehicle and slinging her duffle bag over the shoulder of her uninjured side. 

"You got it, Boss Lady. You know I'll be ready."

Sasha grinned at her.

"That I do. Get some rest, yeah?"

Charlotte gave her friend one last nod of gratefulness before shutting the door and waving goodbye. 

She turned and started to make her way up the walk of the small house she'd rented out for the week with a long sigh. 

Another successful reclamation of her place on the throne was enough to make her feel like she was on top of the world, of course. But underlying her post-win euphoria were the usual battle wounds.

The aches in her bones, the twinges of her muscles, the exhaustion of her body all-around...

It was all there, and it was doing a great job of making her want to take the longest sleep known to man.

Which was her exact plan for the night, seeing as rain was in the forecast, and she definitely didn't want to go out and get caught in it. 

No, she was completely fine with celebrating in a more mundane way. And, in fact, it was really her only option, seeing as she was on strict orders from the doctor to do as little physical activity as possible until Raw the next night. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, because she'd admit it: The botch had been pretty bad. Not catastrophic, thank god, but definitely not good. 

The moonsault itself was beautiful—if she was allowed to have any opinion herself—but the landing?  _That_ was rough. Sasha hadn't been in the right place at the right time, and Charlotte had overcorrected too far when she noticed that. So, it was the harsh edge of the announce table that she was met with, instead of her friend's body. 

The impact had sent all the air from her lungs. All ability to move had felt as if it had been ripped rudely from her body. She crumpled to the floor and couldn't seem to get any of her limbs to cooperate. 

And Sasha had been worried instantly. (Charlotte knew that in the back of her mind, even as her ears were overwhelmed with a deafening ring.) But the woman still created distance between them, still created the illusion that neither one of them had messed up, that the injury was scripted. 

She knew Charlotte wanted the match to go on, so she gave it a chance. And it was really just sheer power of will that had allowed Charlotte to push herself up and back into the ring, but the ending still had to be rushed forward, because with every breath she inhaled, her chest felt like it was burning. 

Sasha recognized her pain immediately, and she's the one that signaled for an early finish. 

Charlotte just accepted it at that point, because the tiny stars that had started to swoop in and out of her vision were too distracting for her to insist otherwise. 

The two-ish minutes after that passed by in a blur. 

Her boot somehow made it to the right place on Sasha's jaw, and Charlotte still had enough ring awareness to lock in the Figure Four. It was bridging up into the Figure Eight that had nearly made her black out. 

And, truthfully, she wasn't even sure, presently, how she got back to gorilla, but it didn't matter, because after spending hours with Doc, she regained her mobility and steadiness. She was told that her ribs were merely bruised, and that she wouldn't have to sit out for an extended period of time, but that she _did_ have to take it easy moving forward. 

Which was definitely a sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant she could continue to wrestle. But, if Charlotte was being honest, even if it wasn't something she was okay with, she really didn't have the energy to argue in the moment, because, hell, even walking up the stairs to the house felt like a task in and of itself.

So, yeah, resting wasn't the worst idea she'd ever heard. 

She sighed again, as she tried to figure out which key was the right one and why the owner couldn't have just separated the different ones for her. 

A timespan of somewhere between a minute and a month passed before she finally got her choice right.

The sound of the lock sliding out of place was enough to almost make her smile again, but the urge disappeared when she took a few steps forward and registered the sight before her.

Her limbs froze up, and her eyebrows furrowed.

She tilted her head in confusion.

Because she wasn't sure _what_ she was expecting to find once she got inside the house, but a silent and brooding Becky Lynch sitting on the stairs in the foyer was definitely not even _close_ to the top of the list.

A silent and brooding Becky wasn't even on the list at all, actually.

And it wasn't the fact that Becky was _there_ that was surprising, because, of course, they were staying together, as per usual. No, it was just the silent and brooding part that had Charlotte closing the door cautiously, with slow movements and silent steps. 

"Hey," she said after a second, quietly and trying to portray some calm. "I'm sorry I couldn't get back here earlier. Doc had to keep me for longer than he thought initially."

Becky didn't lift her eyes from off of the spot on the floor she was glaring at. She didn't even move. Just kept her elbows on her knees and continued to clasp her hands together too tightly to be casual.

Charlotte tried to quell the rising anxiety that was starting to bubble in her stomach. She stepped further into the house, removed her jacket from off of her and put it on the coat rack by the door. She placed the keys in her hand on the hook on the opposite side and then shifted her duffle bag some from where it had started to slip off of her shoulder. 

A sudden pang of discomfort radiated from her ribs, and she wasn't quick enough to hide her flinch. 

Becky finally looked up, as thunder rumbled lowly in the distance.

Charlotte froze again.

"So, it _was_ your ribs then?" Becky asked. "That's what you've hurt this time?"

Charlotte suddenly felt like a deer caught in headlights, the hardness of Becky's voice catching her off-guard and making her feel unsteady for the second time in the last few hours—albeit for an entirely different reason than before.

"Wha—?"

"Because I wasn't sure. Since, you know, you didn't seem to care enough about answering my calls or texts when I was asking if you were okay."

Charlotte nearly shrank away from the heat in her best friend's gaze. She gripped the strap of her bag tighter.

"I-I'm sorry," she tried to say. "I haven't looked at my phone all night."

Becky stood.

"And you didn't think that was stupid? You didn't think some of us would be worried?"

"Well, I was a little preoccupied with being poked and prodded at," Charlotte shot back automatically, defensiveness creeping up in her tone as she felt an attack coming on. "So, I'm sorry if it happened to slip my mind that I should check my phone."

Becky's jaw ticked, and Charlotte knew instantly that fighting fire with more fire was not the best tactic. 

She shifted her weight between her feet anxiously.

The silence that fell over them was heavy and nearly suffocating; it lasted about four moments too long. 

And then Becky finally asked, "Are you gonna answer my question or not?" in a lower and cooler voice, and Charlotte wished it were silent again. "Is it your ribs that you've now added to the list of body parts you've hurt because you don't know when to draw the line?"

Charlotte's eyebrows knitted together further, genuine upset starting to roil within her as Becky continued to glower at her.

"Look, I'm really tired," she said. "So, if you're looking for a fight right now, I'm not going to give it to you."

Charlotte made her point by walking past the other woman and into the living room, where she set her bag down on the couch. 

Becky's footsteps followed her.

"I'm not trying to fight anyone. I'm just trying to figure out what it is you've hurt this time, because it gets kinda hard to keep up with each injury, ya know?" Charlotte looked up as Becky snapped her fingers. "Maybe I should start keeping a chart! Or—Or a _punch card_ , where each time you get injured and leave me worrying, I get a sticker, and if I reach a hundred stickers I can trade it in for a fucking trophy that says 'Sorry Your Best Friend Can Be So Insufferable At Times!'"

Charlotte straightened up and crossed her arms, in a semi-protective way, over her chest. The tension that she thought she'd gotten rid of returned to her shoulders in full force.

"Becky, why are you being such an _asshole_ , right now? What the fuck is your problem?"

"You!" Becky exclaimed instantly. " _You're_ my fucking problem!"

Charlotte knew her hurt flickered through her eyes, but she also knew that her anger drowned it out in the next instant.

" _Me_?" she repeated. "Why am _I_ your problem? Are you really that mad that I forgot to text you that I was fine?"

" _No_ ," Becky bit out. "I'm _mad_ because I'm fucking _sick_ of you throwing yourself into reckless situations and then having the _audacity_ to treat it all like it's not a big deal!"

"It's _not_ a big deal!" Charlotte snapped back, her voice rising in volume as Becky's did. "It was one mistake. And, yeah, I got injured. _Yeah_ , my ribs hurt. But that's part of the job we do, Becky. Obtaining injuries is a given. Why are you losing your shit over this?"

"Because it fucking _scares me_ , Charlotte! Every single time you get hurt, it scares me. And this time you weren't even _moving_  when it first happened. And then, when you finally _did_ get up, you were so out of it and you were clutching your side like something was broken. Hell, I _thought_ something was broken, and you didn't even answer your phone to let me know that it wasn't."

"Becks, I'm _sorry_ that I didn't answer my phone. But, look, obviously, nothing's broken. I'm fine, and I'm standing right in front of you. So, please, calm down."

"No! Because that's not the point!"

"Well, then what _is_ the point?"

Becky nearly growled in frustration.

"The point is that I want you to stop being so goddamn _careless_ with your safety and wellbeing! How hard is that to understand?"

"Becky, you take risks just like I do! You signed up for it just like I did."

"I don't risk my entire _body,_ though, is what I'm saying. And you shouldn't either."

Charlotte gestured in exasperation.

“How are you going to tell me what I should and shouldn't do with _my body_? It's my choice.”

"Oh my god,” Becky exclaimed, throwing her hands up as well and then using them to wipe at her face. “You're fucking hopeless." She gestured helplessly in Charlotte’s direction. "Charlotte, I _know_ that it's your body. I _know_ that it's your decision that's final on these things. But you’re just—." She ran her hands through her hair harshly. "You’re _my_ _person_ , and I can't—I don't—.”

The woman cut off abruptly as a crack appeared in the cadence of her words. She blinked quickly in the next second—a little too quickly for Charlotte to ignore.

"Becks," she said, suddenly subdued in tone and volume, instinct taking over. "Becky."

Becky threw up her hands again, this time in surrender.

“Whatever, Charlotte. I guess if you don’t understand by now, then you never will.”

"What—?"

Becky just shook her head and began to walk back towards the foyer, the air of disappointment around her making her shoulders look like they had too much weight on them.

"Becky, wait. Where are you _going_?”

Charlotte moved around the couch and trailed along behind her.

“For a walk.”

“For a… A _walk_? Becky, it’s about to start storming!”

"I need some air. Don't wait up."

Becky grabbed the keys from the hook by the window and then nearly threw the door open.

She took, maybe, about one second to look at the way the sky had darkened and swirled ominously above them, and then she just marched forward anyways, with the same sense of recklessness that she was supposed to be mad at Charlotte for having.

"Becky!" Charlotte called from where she'd stopped on the porch. "Are you serious?"

She glanced up anxiously when she felt a first drop of rain land on her arm, and then she watched as Becky continued to walk down the path, away from the house, still in her normal clothes and without any protection against the onslaught of the storm that was brewing.

"Oh my god," Charlotte breathed out, to herself this time. She glanced over at the umbrella bucket and grabbed the first one she saw. She snatched the jacket she'd hung up earlier from its place on the coatrack, and then she went back to the door. "This is ridiculous."

The drops of water started to fall more steadily.

She wrapped the arms of the jacket around her waist and then opened the umbrella, haphazardly pulling the door shut behind her and heading down the path in the same direction Becky took.

The woman was almost far enough away at this point to not be seen in the darkness, but a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the night enough for Charlotte to catch a glimpse of her figure.

"Becks!"

A harsh crack of thunder drowned out her call; it sounded like it would nearly split the sky open. 

And, in a way, it did. 

Because just as Charlotte made it to the sidewalk, the floodgates were torn apart and all of the awaiting rain poured down upon them.

She had to grip the umbrella tighter in her hand to keep it from being forced from her grip. 

"Becky!" she called again, feeling mild surprise hum through her veins as Becky didn't stop walking, even underneath the sudden barrage of water.

Charlotte looked around, as if she would, maybe, find the answer to _'What the hell is going on?'_ in some trick of the light. 

She didn't. Unsurprisingly.

And, so, for a moment, she was torn, because this was definitely _not_ taking it easy like she told Doc she would do. But then, in the next instant, she took off after her best friend, because it was suddenly storming its ass off, and they were in an unfamiliar city at night, and there was no way she was going to let anything bad happen to Becky even if she _was_ being incredibly rude and hardheaded. 

So, even though her chest started to burn again, just like before, she didn't slow down. Because with each second that passed without her eyes catching a glimpse of orange hair, worry burned more intensely within her gut. 

"Who the fuck keeps walking in a storm?" she panted, hating how even underneath the umbrella she was getting assaulted by the rain. "And I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one."

She turned the corner that she saw Becky go around and felt a hint of relief in her veins when she spotted her up ahead. 

"Becky!"

Her feet carried her easily across the distance in between them, and soon she was able to slow down her pace to a normal speed, when only about three feet separated them.

"Becky, for god's sake, stop for a second. I need to breathe."

Becky finally pulled up, and Charlotte stopped too, near gratefully. She bent a little at her waist and brought her free arm up to clutch at her side.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she said after a minute or two, straightening her posture and staring at the back of Becky's head. "Who just decides that walking in a rainstorm is okay? And at night no less!" She ran a hand through her dampened hair. "We're in an unfamiliar city, Becks. You can't just go wandering around without your phone."

Becky turned on her heel to peer at her through the darkness and the rain. 

"Oh," she exclaimed with a raise of her eyebrows. "Are you saying that you think I'm being reckless? That not seeming to care about my safety is ridiculous and that you don't like it? Is that what you're implying right now?"

Charlotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes, because, _really,_ this was to make a _point_? She inhaled slowly.

"Okay," she said, tilting her head down and showing her palms in surrender. "Okay, I get it." She pointed at Becky briefly. "You made your statement, alright? Can we go back now?"

Becky gave her a scrutinizing stare. 

"I still don't think you do get it."

"Becky," Charlotte said, breathy with exasperation, lifting her eyes to the heavens as if asking for a reprieve. "Will you just, please, get underneath the umbrella, at least? You know that you’ve just gotten over that cold, and now you’re asking for worse.”

“No. _No_. Just, Charlotte, please leave me alone. I just need to be alone.”

Becky started to move away from her again, continued to stomp her way through the rainstorm as if she could part a path for herself if she just tried hard enough.

Charlotte sighed through her nose, following behind because she knew that wasn't going to happen and that, eventually, Becky was going to get cold enough to join her.

"Becky, you're being ridiculous. Like on unprecedented levels."

Becky ignored her, but Charlotte noticed how she shivered slightly. 

"Are you going to stop being stubborn any time soon?" she asked, having to raise her voice above the roar of the rain. "Or are we going to spend all night out here?"

Becky brought herself to another stop abruptly, and Charlotte’s ears were so attuned to hearing any noise she makes, that her sigh was perfectly audible.

She turned once more, so that they could lock eyes, and then she pushed the soaked strands of orange hair out of her face a little.

(Charlotte’s brain made the unhelpful note of how, even in their waterlogged state, they still resembled the fire their owner has flowing through her veins.)

“No one’s forcing you to be out here, Charlotte,” came the biting remark, breaking Charlotte out of her thoughts abruptly. “In fact, it would be preferable for you to be anywhere _but_ here right now.”

Charlotte's hurt came back to flash across her face, longer than before but still gone quicker than the lightning in the sky. Becky didn't seem to recognize it or care.

"Why don't you put us both out of our misery and go back to the house. Put some ice on your injury or whatever it is you want to do, I don't care."

Charlotte squinted her eyes in confusion.

"So, _first_ , you were mad because I _wasn't_ talking to you, and, _now_ , you're mad because I'm _trying_ to talk to you? You're literally giving me whiplash."

"And _you're_ getting on my nerves!" Becky responded. "You weren't listening to what I was saying, and you still aren't, so, no, I don't want to talk to you anymore. I want to be alone."

Charlotte felt something in her chest twinge. She felt an ache in her stomach that had nothing to do with her physical condition.

She swallowed thickly.

And _that’s_ the problem with knowing someone so well, she suddenly thought: the ability to say exactly what you need to in order to cut the deepest.

And, truly, she knew that Becky didn’t mean to be so cutting, so cruel. Hell, their whole argument started because Becky cares so deeply about her, after all.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less to feel each syllable lodge itself into her skin.

She blinked quickly.

“Fine,” she grit out through the soreness in her throat. “But I don’t want to have to be the one to explain to Shane why you suddenly can’t wrestle in two days because you nearly froze yourself to death in a fucking rainstorm, so take the goddamn umbrella from me if you’re going to continue to be such an ass.”

And she didn’t actually give Becky any chance to step forward and take it from her hands, because she just ended up throwing it down onto the ground between them, into the space between them.

She pivoted and began to walk away before the first tear could even attempt to disguise itself against her cheek as a raindrop, and her fingers shook as she attempted to grab the jacket from around her waist and throw it on without aggravating her side further.

Becky didn't call after her, and she didn't follow her, but Charlotte didn't expect her to. 

Which was the first time in the night that she'd been right in her expectations. 

Because if you would've asked her earlier on if she thought this was how she'd be spending her evening after winning the championship, she probably wouldn't have even graced you with an answer.

But life can come at you fast, apparently.

She scoffed. 

She honestly didn't know _what_  was going through Becky's mind. Because, first, she just straight up shouted at her as soon as she walked through the door, and then she left in a big, extravagant huff as it started to rain?  

_What the hell?_

"Fucking stupid," Charlotte muttered as she came up on the corner again. "All of this is fucking stupid."

She blew lightly on her freezing fingers, stretching and flexing them as they tried to stiffen at the joints.

The gate was right in front of her then, and she flung it open with a wrath that seemed to dim the storm in comparison, if only for a brief moment. 

And she hadn't realized, before, how far they’d actually walked, but, currently, she guessed it was a pretty okay distance, after all, because she was completely soaked through to the skin.

She was shivering and sad, and she really just wanted to change and go to sleep.

But as she climbed up the steps to the door, she was halted in her momentum by a dreadful realization.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Because of-fucking _-course_ she managed to forget that Becky was the one to grab the keys to the house and take them with her. Because of- _fucking_ -course the door locked when she shut it.

So, she was left stranded out in the rain until the other woman decided to make her way back. ( _If_ _the other woman decided to make her way back_ , she was unhelpfully reminded by the guiltier side of her conscious.)

She let out a rough sigh, one that was all dramatic and just a heaving of her chest in frustration.

“Well, this night is going swimmingly. Why don’t I rent Air BnB's more often? I can’t remember.”

She looked up from the ledge just underneath the door and absolutely _loathed_ how the small awning above her wasn’t even close to being big enough to help conceal her from the rain. _Why_ would you have an awning that does nothing?

She grumbled some nonsensical curses to herself, wrapping her arms closer around her body and pulling the hood of the jacket closer to her face. Her clothes were already ruined and drenched, so she just resigned herself to sitting on the top step like a scorned lover in a sad rom-com scene.

A mirthless laugh pushed past her lips.

She supposed she did fit the bill pretty well.

"You're just always fucking up, huh, Charlotte?" she asked herself, rhetorical but with real feeling. 

Her thoughts moved back to Becky, her brash and beautiful best friend... 

She sighed.

It wasn't like she didn't _get_ where the woman was coming from... She was worried when she saw Charlotte get hurt; that was understandable, of course. 

But to imply that Charlotte nearly went  _looking_ for injuries? To imply that she didn't care about whether or not she got hurt? That was ridiculous.

Of course, Charlotte cared if she got hurt. No one _wants_ to get hurt. Except, maybe, masochists, which Charlotte was definitely not. 

Charlotte was just an entertainer, is all. She was willing to take big risks to put on a big show, and can you blame her for that? When her motto is to 'Do it with Flair?'

No.

How could anyone fault her for wanting to give the crowd the best presentation their money could buy? For wanting to please the people that had been there to watch her grow into herself? For wanting to prove that she deserved to be there and that it wasn't her father's name that got her to her place in the business?

She didn't think anyone could, but apparently Becky found a way. 

Not that Becky had ever or would ever tell her that she believed Charlotte didn't deserve her place in WWE, but Charlotte sometimes feared that everyone thought it to themselves, and her fear that Becky thought it was the strongest of all. 

And she knew that she didn't have anything to prove to her best friend, out of everyone in the world, but she still felt like she needed to work three times as hard because she had so much respect and awe and love for the woman, that being lesser than, being undeserving of sharing this life with her, felt completely unacceptable. 

So, sure, she worked hard because she wanted to prove it to her critics, and her fans, and  _herself_.

But she _pushed herself to her limits_ because she wanted to _deserve_ _Becky_. 

She wanted to deserve the way Becky believed in her, protected her, loved her. She wanted to deserve all of the concern, and respect, and admiration.

It was almost as if she thought working herself to the bone in the present would allow her to catch up to all of the hard work Becky had put in during the years where wrestling was nowhere near being Charlotte's focus or passion. 

Which was, admittedly, completely illogical and nonsensical, but Charlotte couldn't help it. 

The love she had for Becky was above everything else on her list of things she cherished, even above her safety and body, and, so, it really was a no-brainer as to why she always seemed to find the most extreme ways to substantiate why she belonged next to her best friend.

Charlotte jumped as another bolt of lightning streaked startlingly across the sky. She gripped her arms tighter than before, curling into herself and ducking her head as the thunder that followed shuddered through her bones.

Drops of water continued to stream relentlessly down her face and drip from her nose and chin. Every article of clothing she had on clung to her body like a second skin. The pads of her fingers were wrinkled and properly pruned, and if she took off her shoes, she was sure her toes would look the same. 

She glanced up and around her, but Becky was still nowhere in sight. 

She let out a groan.

At this rate, there was no way her ribs would feel good enough for them to let her wrestle on Raw. There was no way they would feel good enough for her to even try to _hide_ how bad they felt. 

And she had no idea how much time had passed since Sasha dropped her off, since the argument started, since Becky walked out, but she knew that it was late. 

She tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, as worry gnawed at her gut. 

She really didn't want Becky to be wandering around on her own. Not at night, when it was raining and she was upset and didn't know where she was going. 

She could get lost or _hurt,_ and Charlotte didn't know what she would _do_ if Becky got hurt. Really and truly hurt. 

Because, in the ring, she rarely acquired injuries. She was careful, like she said, but she also just seemed to bounce back from everything. 

So, Charlotte had never had to face the real fear of Becky being seriously wounded.

And, _oh..._  

Maybe _that_ was the problem of it all.

Maybe, Charlotte realized abruptly, she was having such a hard time empathizing with Becky's view, because Becky _was_ always careful.

She was never the reckless one, because Charlotte took up that job too well for her to be. 

Charlotte was the one that was always close to the edge, and Becky, having to watch and wait and worry so many times, must have known how bad it feels to be unable to help, so she made sure Charlotte would never be in that position. 

Charlotte let her eyelids flutter shut. 

"Oh, you are definitely an asshole, Flair."

She exhaled slowly, as regret bubbled up in her chest, right at the base of her throat. 

She was starting to think that maybe she should get up and go look for Becky again, even though the woman's last words were ringing bitterly within her ears and making her doubt herself.

Because they truly couldn't be outside all night like Charlotte had said earlier. Not when she was starting to tremble so intensely that frostbite seemed imminent within the next _hour_. 

Her teeth chattered faintly. 

"Okay. Time to suck it up."

She prepped herself to stand, to move from the only position she'd found that didn't make her ribs yell at her, but, serendipitously, just as she shifted her legs, she heard footsteps splashing their way towards her, through the puddles on the sidewalk.

She looked up and tried to squint through the atmosphere to see if she'd just been saved a whole _heap_ of trouble. 

She almost cried with relief when she realized she had. 

And Becky's focus was on the ground, so she didn't even notice Charlotte sitting in front of her until she was a few feet away, but when she did, her expression was hard to decipher. 

“What—? Why are you sitting out here?” came the confused question, not quite hard like before, but definitely not soft. “Who’s gonna get sick, now?”

And Charlotte was so _tired_ at that point, that she didn't even have it in her to feel angry at how long it took Becky to come back; she was honestly just happy that she did.

When she answered, her voice didn't have any fight left.

“The door automatically locks, and you took the keys with you. I didn’t remember until I was already all the way back here.”

Realization washed over Becky’s face as she reached down suddenly to pat her pocket, resulting in the telltale jingle of the exact objects Charlotte had been trying to wish into her hands for god only knows how long.

“I—I’m sorry," Becky stuttered. "I forgot too—.”

“Just unlock the door, please,” Charlotte said as she stood, hating how stiff her joints and muscles felt immediately.

Becky walked quickly past her, holding the umbrella, Charlotte noticed, with her chin as she attempted to find the right key.

A few moments passed, where Becky faced the same struggle Charlotte had earlier, but eventually she was pushing the door open and stepping back to allow Charlotte to go in first.

“Thanks,” Charlotte mumbled.

“Yeah,” Becky replied quietly.

Her voice was much gentler now, and Charlotte didn’t even need to look at her best friend to know that there was guilt contorting the features of her face.

She almost didn’t have it in her to care.

But, of course, she did. She _did_  care, and, even through her exhaustion and her _sadness_ , she felt like she had to try to alleviate that guilt in some way.

“We both forgot about the keys,” she said simply, not looking at Becky as she waved her hand weakly in a dismissive fashion. “It’s fine.”

Not her best work, but they _were_  still fighting, after all. Or, at least, she _thought_ they were.

She didn’t know anymore.

All she knew was that she was freezing. Her bones hurt. Her chest hurt. Her _ribs_ hurt. Her head and eyes hurt.

She was pretty sure that she’d have a wicked cold the next day, and she really just wanted to go to sleep.

So, she toed her shoes off, and began to shimmy out of her sweatpants.

“W-What are you doin’?”

Charlotte didn’t even turn around, she just continued in her actions.

“Well, I can’t just track water all through the house,” she said. “I’m going to put on dry clothes, and then I’ll come get these ones.”

She finished peeling her pants off of her, and then she did the same with her shirt, leaving her in just her undergarments, which _were_ more modest than usual, in the form of a sports bra and a soft pair of boxers she always brought with her on trips.

She shivered harshly again, against the air this time, which had suddenly latched onto her exposed skin and created goosebumps wherever it touched.

"Stay here. I'll go get us some towels from the hall closet."

She didn't wait for a response from Becky before she followed through with her actions and grabbed the fluffiest, warmest-looking towels she could find. 

When she returned, she handed one off to Becky silently. Their fingers brushed, and a jolt almost went through Charlotte's arm at the sensation. 

She unfolded the fabric in her hands and lifted it to her face to hide it. 

For a few moments, they started to dry themselves off without incident. 

But then Charlotte turned too much, reached too far, and a more acute pain stabbed at her side. 

She inhaled sharply, which made Becky look up from where she had been shaking her hair out.

Her eyes landed first on Charlotte's face, and then on Charlotte's stomach.

She released her own harsh and abrupt breath.

“Jesus, Charlotte,” she said quietly, abandoning her towel to rest on her shoulders. “Your ribs.”

And, _shit_. Charlotte totally forgot that her ribs were the thing they started fighting over in the first place. She totally forgot to even _try_ to conceal their discoloration.

She turned away from Becky more, like before.

She started to dry off her chest and shoulders. 

“They’re fine.”

“No, they’re not," Becky insisted. "And you know I know that. Let me see.”

“Becky, I’m tired, okay. I get it, you’re upset because I was reckless. I’m always reckless. I _know_. We can talk about it later."

Charlotte started to walk away then, but she only made it about two steps before a hand was grabbing onto her wrist.

"No, look," Becky said, pulling Charlotte to a stop gently. "Please. We don't have to talk about that. I—I just want to make sure you're okay. I was so mad earlier I forgot to do that." Charlotte went to open her mouth. "And don't you dare _say_ you're okay, because you always say that, even when it's not true."

Charlotte pressed her lips together, clenched her jaw tight a few times, and contemplated her next move. 

On the one hand, she could shake Becky off of her and walk away like she had initially planned to do. (Because she _was_ still irritated with the woman and frustrated with _herself_ and just  _really_ fucking cold).

But, on the other hand, she knew that Becky's demeanor had softened because she felt bad, and, so, her storming off would only serve to prolong their argument. And if there was ever one thing Charlotte hated doing the most, it was arguing with Becky. 

So, she let out a long sigh through her nose before pivoting around on her heel to be face to face with her friend once more.

Becky recognized the signs of her concession and took a step towards her, her fingers still wrapped loosely around Charlotte's arm, tentative and half-expecting Charlotte to maybe change her mind. When a few more seconds passed, and Becky seemed sure that Charlotte wasn't going anywhere, she moved forward again.

And then Charlotte had to blink, because Becky was _really_ close to her, a lot closer than she expected—close enough for Charlotte to be able to count the raindrops that had collected in her eyelashes.

(Which she wasn't doing, because she wasn't looking that _intently._  But if she _was, she could've._ )

Her breath rattled lightly within her lungs.

Becky removed her hand from around Charlotte's wrist, to, instead, come up and ghost over the dark and hurting area of Charlotte's abdomen.

Charlotte felt goosebumps rise up across her body, and she had to physically resist the shudder that tried to roll through her spine.

When Becky’s fingertips actually brushed across the bruised and bare skin of her ribs, the muscles there flexed and tensed in their wake.

Charlotte's next exhale was shaky.

Becky glanced up for just a second, but then she was looking back down again, almost as if meeting Charlotte's eyes was too much to handle in the moment. 

Charlotte understood that.

They stood there in silence for a second.

Until Becky finally said, "I’m sorry,” in a low and soft voice. “I didn't mean to be so harsh and dramatic about it all, honestly. I—I just—I _worry_ about you. A lot. And you keep getting hurt, but I would rather like to keep you around for a while, you know?”

Charlotte felt her apathetic mask lower, but she still let a smirk settle into her lips, because it was easier than taking time to process the real emotion on _Becky's_ face.

"Becks, you know I'm not going anywhere," she said, the familiar smugness of her character slipping into her syllables, even as she tenderly, still a little hesitantly, placed her hands on Becky's shoulders. "It'll take a lot more than a botched landing and some bruised ribs to get rid of me." Her voice got gentler, more genuine. "So, for as long as you want me, you've got me."

Becky's gaze finally came up, and the instant it met Charlotte's own, she felt lightheaded. Her own guilt from earlier pressed against the inside of her esophagus, begging for some release. 

"But I—um... I'm sorry too," she continued in a whisper. "I—I realized that I _can_ be insufferable at times, and, also that it's not fair to you, or the people that care about me to be so haphazard with myself, so, I'll be more careful. I swear."

Becky tilted her head forward with a raise of her eyebrows, slightly and pleasantly surprised.

"You _promise_?"

Charlotte smiled faintly then, lifting her right hand and offering her pinky finger.

"With my pinky."

Becky grinned then too, in a quiet sort of way.

She linked her own pinky around Charlotte's.

"I'll hold you to that, you know."

"Oh, I know. Hell hath no fury like you when you're pissed off, I've just been reminded." She paused briefly. "But you trust me, right?"

Becky gave her a searching look, like there was something she needed to see in the curves and edges of Charlotte's features, and Charlotte was honestly unsure if she'd find it. 

But eventually she got a nod and a quiet, "Right," as her answer.

She swallowed slowly.

"So, we're good now?" she asked.

"Yeah," Becky breathed out with another nod. "We're good."

"And you're still my girl?" 

Becky's eyes shimmered with something substantial, with something that made Charlotte's stomach squeeze tight.

"Of course," she laughed breathily. "You know I couldn't ever be anyone else's."

Charlotte smiled. She felt some calm finally start to ease its way back through her veins.

She leant down to press a fond kiss upon Becky's forehead, right on the edge of her damp hairline.

"Okay. Then I'm gonna go get changed now, because this might be the farthest from comfortable I've ever been."

She pulled back and went to make her way towards the living room again, towards her bag, which was still sitting on the couch where she left it, but Becky's grip tightened on her pinky from where they were still connected, so Charlotte looked back to her with a questioning look.

"What—?"

"You're not actually insufferable," came Becky's next whispered words. "You know that, right?"

Charlotte tilted her head, fully endeared by the actual hint of concern in Becky's tone. 

"Yeah, Becks, I know."

"And you know that your hard work is recognized, right? Like, yeah, you're a Flair, but you're _Charlotte_ Flair. You're one of the best superstars the WWE has ever had, male or female, and that doesn't come from a name. That comes from blood, sweat, tears, and _talent_." Charlotte felt tears spring up and into her eyes abruptly, without warning. "You don't have anything to prove to anyone. At least, not anymore, not for a long time."

"Y-Yeah. I know," she tried to say, without feeling like she was lying. "How did you—?"

"I know you, Charlie," Becky answered with a shrug, like it wasn't one of the most meaningful things Charlotte had ever heard. "I know that sometimes people like to call on your father's accomplishments to diminish your own, and I know that it can get to you at times." Becky's eyes flitted between both of her own. "I know that that's why you go all out all the time. And I've always admired how much you want to build your own brand and fanbase. But I'm just glad you're going to try to do it more safely from now on."

Charlotte's lips upturned in a watery smile. She sniffed faintly and lifted her hand to wipe under her nose.

"You always know _just_ what to say to make me cry," she said without any bite. "Why is that?"

Becky reached up to wipe at the moisture on her cheeks. 

"Now, you know seeing you cry is my least favorite thing, lass. Come on, let's get dried off and cheered up."

"Wait," Charlotte stopped her, now fully feeling the effects of her emotions. "I—." She cut off, as she doubted herself again, as she felt too vulnerable and exposed. "I wanted to say that I really _do_ get it now. I didn't just apologize to appease you." She inhaled slowly. "The truth is, you're completely right. I do feel like I have things to prove to everyone. To everyone who has doubted me, _and_ to everyone who has supported me."

Charlotte had to drop her gaze to Becky's shoulder in order to continue, because the woman was staring at her so earnestly she almost felt like she couldn't breathe.

"I do all that I can to entertain and to excel because I feel like I'm still so caught up in the _family_ name, instead of _my_ name." 

She gave herself a moment of pause, as some anxiety fluttered within her stomach.

"But, truthfully, the main reason I train so much, and strive to perform so hard, is you."

Charlotte didn't even have to be looking at Becky to know exactly the way that her eyebrows knitted together.

"Not because I think I have to impress you, really, or win your _approval_. But because you're the most important person in my life, and—and you're also one of the best superstars the WWE has ever seen. And you've worked so hard at this for so long, even before I ever thought about wrestling, and I just—I feel like being able to work with you and be by your side is a privilege. And, so, I want to _deserve_ to be known as your best friend in the history books." She sniffed again. "I mean, yes, know I have my own place, in my own right, but I realized a long time ago that I don't ever want your association with me to be what drags you down, so I try so hard every day to make sure that I've earned my spot at your side."

The rain still pounding against the roof above them did nothing to drown out the sudden sound of her _heart_ pounding within her ears.

All of the coldness that she'd felt was consuming her body before was gone, and now she felt hot all over.

Because, that was the closest she'd ever come to expressing how deeply her feelings for Becky really went. 

She released a shaky breath and soldiered on. 

"But I realized that putting myself _at risk_ in order to do so is selfish, because when you were out in the rain by yourself and I was sitting on the porch waiting for you to come back, I finally felt as helpless as you must feel when you see me get hurt. I mean, even the _possibility_ of you hurting was too much for me to really think about, and I don't ever want you to feel like that again, not because of me. So, I'm sorry. Really, truly sorry."

Her eyes were still fixated on the way Becky's shirt was conformed to the shape of her shoulder from water, even as she said her apology again. 

Because she simply didn't think she could meet Becky's stare. She didn't think she could possibly be able to handle the way that Becky was looking at her, good or bad. 

As stated before, Charlotte didn't _do well_ with being vulnerable, or open, or exposed like a nerve, and she definitely didn't  _like it_. 

But, then again, this was _Becky_ she was talking to. 

Her best friend. Her Becks. The woman she was in love with. 

And if there was anyone she'd let read her like a book, it was Becky. 

So, she steeled her nerves and forced her gaze up, before immediately concluding that it was a bad decision.

Because the tearful expression on Becky's face was enough to make Charlotte's chest ache, and she couldn't even tell what it meant.

For the first time in a long time, she couldn't look at her best friend's features and know what she was thinking in an instant, and she hated it.

She hated the fact that she'd just pretty much laid her heart out to bare...

What was she even _thinking_?

She knew Becky loved her, of course. That was a given.

But she didn't love her in the way that Charlotte had been trying to repress in her own heart. 

She didn't love her in the way that lovers loved. 

She loved her in the way that friends loved. _Best friends_ , yes, but still friends. 

And Charlotte knew that.

So, she had to find the quickest way out of the conversation and to her room. Before she cried or threw up or both.

"That's—um... That's all I wanted to say though, so we can go get dried off and stuff now... Separately, I mean."

She winced at her own words and hoped her ribs were enough of an excuse for it. 

Her eyes bounced to and from everything in her line of sight _except_ for Becky.

She went to finally just move away from the damage she'd inflicted but realized suddenly that their pinkies were still linked together.

Of its own volition, her attention latched onto their joined hands, and Becky must have been watching her _closely_ , because in the next split-second, her finger flexed around Charlotte's own, drawing her eyes up again out of reflex. 

Charlotte let out an unsteady breath.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I'm just gonna—."

The rest of her sentence was halted by the soft pressure of lips against her own. A surprised noise emanated from within her throat.

The shock flooding her system completely overrode the functions of her brain, so she didn't have a chance to respond before Becky was pulling away again. 

Her eyelids fluttered apart. 

She blinked, as her world tried to realign itself upon its axis.

Her chest nearly shook with her next breath, because had Becky's pupils always been so widely dilated when looking at her before?

She was at a loss for words.

"I—What?"

"You were starting to panic," Becky whispered quietly. "You needed to pause for a second."

Charlotte nodded her head out of instinct.

"Right. Yeah, of course. Makes sense." Her eyebrows furrowed. "Thanks. I think."

Becky looked too fond, too adoring, for Charlotte to take in, so she once again moved her line of sight to another spot in the room.

"Okay, um... I think I should just—."

"Charlotte, beautiful," Becky interrupted her gently. "Look at me."

And that was just unfair, because when had Charlotte ever been able to deny Becky anything. 

Their gazes met. Becky looked at her meaningfully. 

"I love you."

Charlotte nodded, still just running on motor reflexes as she continued to recover and regroup.

"Well, yeah. I—I love you too, Becks. You know that."

Becky just shook her head. 

"No. _Charlotte,_ " she said in exasperation, albeit still affectionately. "Charlotte, I'm _in love_ with you."

The world slowed. Charlotte's _heart_ slowed.

Everything felt completely off but utterly right, all at once. 

"You're—uh... You... Really?"

Becky smiled at her in a way that Charlotte suddenly realized was only hers. 

"Yes. Really."

And, still, it took a few seconds, but, finally, Charlotte could seem to react again.

She brought her hand up to Becky's face and saw the way the woman leant into it. She briefly wondered if that had ever happened before without her noticing. 

She brushed her thumb across the swell of Becky's cheekbone.

"For—For how long?"

Becky shrugged, as she entwined all of the fingers of Charlotte's free hand with her own. 

"Since the beginning," she said. "Since days, and months, and years ago." She brought her other hand up to rest lightly at Charlotte's waist. "I fall in love with you every day. Again and again. Without fail."

Charlotte started to cry once more.

"Really?"

Becky nodded.

"Oh my god."

And it was too much, in that instant, for Charlotte to process. It was too much, and she couldn't seem to get her tongue to cooperate and say " _I'm in love with you too_."

Because, for so long, she'd reprimanded herself whenever she thought of confessing her feelings. For so long, she'd tried to push down and ignore the knot she felt in her stomach whenever she thought of Becky spending the rest of her life with anyone else. 

For so long, she'd _bitten_ her tongue, sometimes at the last second, and, so, it still didn't feel right yet to say it out loud. 

But that didn't mean she couldn't express how she felt. 

So, she leant forward finally, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together again, more firmly than before. She shuffled forward a final little bit, just enough to be as close as possible.

Becky's arm gently shifted and wrapped around her waist, fingers touching feather-light at the skin of Charlotte's lower back. Charlotte's fingers moved and threaded themselves in the strands of Becky's hair. 

A few moments passed where they just kind of breathed one another in. Where they felt as if they were coming home and finding their forever.

When they pulled away for air, it was just a few centimeters. 

Charlotte pressed their foreheads together, the tips of their noses together. 

"I love you too," she said finally, against Becky's mouth. "More than anything and anyone else around, I love you."

Becky smiled at her, breathless and wondering and almost awestruck, and Charlotte was struck by how beautiful she was.

She grinned too.

"I guess the championship is the second best thing I won tonight, huh?"

Becky laughed, the happiest Charlotte had ever heard her.

"You're damn right."

They came back together for another kiss, and neither one of them really seemed to care anymore about how cold and miserable they had been just minutes before. 

Because they finally had each other, and that was all either one of them needed. 

It was all they would ever need.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This was a lot longer than initially planned.
> 
> My tumblr is flairfatale.


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